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Correct EL TORO COMBO MEAL Lyrics
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Artists: E
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Earl Sweatshirt
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Correct EL TORO COMBO MEAL
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Lyrics:
[Intro: Mavi] Tryna, tryna Tryna [Verse 1: Mavi] Man, lost my dog in staircase Took the highest spot on the podium Ghost niggas prolly smokin' to the thought of knowin' us They lost a part of growin' up Smartest, learned I had to keep a wedge to get out of the rough Use the clips, ain't used to disrespect, 'cause we carried enough I promise I buried the grudge, preparing and carrying grub Larry Hoops, I was lost in the alley In the air, but now I sunk I spun to the loss of my grandmama, buried the dunk Send 'bout a prayer a month, through the above Niggas moody but they view at the funk Ain't shit to do, they play with food, they rhyme and Rubik's for fun But I do what I want, ayy And I rue what it was later, allude it as such Confusedly up with paper, I'm shootin' ones with the judges The same as my brother been with a muzzle, that's from the cradle So we goin' to the grave with this shit If we join the second line of ancestors and hand us a drum, loaded, a second time Somethin' scary 'bout airin' out the shit I compress The fair game, the fair now, the causes An arm, leg, an arm, leg, and a head And all greater conquest that takes our partner to rest My partner, my partner spawned with a nigga red I'm all on they neck, 'till my car parks, pardon it, fresh Smart with a few niggas, sparkin' that large percentages Was all to the wind, the losses come as often as wins And impossibly thick Don't got a job, I only ball off pick-six I ball with fresh niggas, Lowry had shit lit, it's Christmas I only know six niggas been lyin', but we ain't gon' mention Who in the stu' and started sweating', told 'em, "It's the kitchen" You know the rules, and we know how to shoot the loopholes Who go boop-a-loop, and my kid, though got the kid And you gon' juug a boogaloo I been spittin' to rhyme the answer, not definitive, I just cramped it I was gifted with words, oh damn, I took my lumps, my bruises, moved What the fuck are you to do? [Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt] Every time a nigga didn't spot me I had to figure out my own thing Now we at the precipice droppin' Harry Potter with the Dub-D's Magic hands, nigga, what cheese Had a chance, then it crushed me We gon' get it by all means Rest in piece to my rocks, G Raw fruit in the box, seeds Let go, then I got wings I'm seein' red, I'ma charge You seein' red 'cause you salty I keep the tears out my mind, reach I put my fears in a box, like a prayer that you won't read Spirited Away, the whole thing Tearin' away, I won't leave See you starin' into old beefs Ticket booths, where they told me Thickest thorns on the roses Pistons roarin' like I'm Rasheed Pistons roarin' like I'm Ben Wallace Pistons roarin' like Chauncey Billups, somethin', 'cause I been drivin' Every time a nigga didn't spot me I had to figure out my own thing Now we at the precipice droppin'
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